


0800-Nut: A journey to the land of the Yeet

by CROWLEYBEANS



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CROWLEYBEANS/pseuds/CROWLEYBEANS
Summary: Smut update based on my stevebucky twitter AU (@CROWLEYBEANS)





	0800-Nut: A journey to the land of the Yeet

Bucky’s POV

My hands shake in anticipation and nervousness as I pace about my living room. I don’t know why I’m nervous, there’s no reason to be. Somehow, Steve and I managed to part ways after all that happened yesterday. He had to sort things out with his mom, unpack and whatnot. I went home, content and happy, for the first time in a very long while. There’s been an almost consistent ache in my chest since, though. Like something is missing. When I woke up this morning it was more persistent that ever, and has only grown worse throughout the day. Pathetic, I know. I can’t even go 24 hours without yearning for him, for his touch and his kiss. I fell for him too fast and too hard, and didn’t act upon my feelings for so long, so now being without him feels like we are right back at square one. I’m still trapped in myself, alone and afraid, running from my problems and insecurities instead of towards them.  
I’m startled from my thoughts by a knock, and I gently push winter off of my lap, giving him a quick scratch behind the ear before opening the door a bit too eagerly. The ache in my chest ebbs almost immediately, the missing piece slotting into place. He’s wrapped up in a coat too big for him, his hair ruffled from the wind and cheeks pink from the cold. His eyes are warm when he looks up at me, though. “Hey…” he breathes out, his voice shaky from the cold.

“Hi…” I reply, my voice shaky for a completely different reason. I step aside so he can enter, taking his coat and hanging it on the railing. He thanks me, and for a second afterwards, neither of us are entirely sure what to say. This is the first time we’ve been alone together since I turned up drunk at his house. I shiver at the memory, but cover it up with a smile. “Can I get you a drink?” He nods shyly before answering. “Just water, please.” I turn and walk to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water for each of us and walking back into the living room, stopping dead in my tracks as I do. 

He’s sat on the floor with winter, who’s licking his face and wagging his tail frantically, clearly happy to see his old friend. It stirs up the memory of the first time we met and a warmth spreads through my chest at the memory of his smile when he was reunited with Cap, the pure happiness bought about only by the bond between a man and his dog. It was always so easy with him, so natural. I didn’t know it at the time but I think I was already falling for him. Or perhaps I did know it, I guess I can never be sure. I knew there was something there though, love or otherwise. Like a missing jigsaw piece that you’re not quite sure of the placement of, but you know the puzzle will never be complete without it. And the hug…I’ve never been quite sure of why that happened. I needed it for comfort and so did he, and in that moment it didn’t matter that we barely knew each other. It didn’t even feel like a conscious thought on my part, almost like my soul had the controls. Like it was trying to tell me _yes, this is it, we’ve found it._

I don’t even realise he’s watching me until he clears his throat. “Bucky, are you okay?” He asks, jolting me out of my head. I nod before noticing that he’s still shivering slightly, and I put the drinks back on the kitchen counter before reaching into the cupboard under the sink, pulling out a blanket. I drape it over my shoulders and return to the living room, drinks in hand. I place them on the table as Steve gets up from the floor and sits on the couch, reluctantly leaving winter sprawled on his back, mid-belly tickle. He whines and lies at Steve’s feet. His eyes don’t leave my face as I drape the blanket around his shoulders. “I thought you might be cold…” I say quietly and he smiles, his eyes shy and fond. “Yeah, thanks.” He says. I nod in reply and sit down next to him, not far, but not close enough for us to be touching, either. He frowns at me, “are you sure everything’s alright?” he asks, his voice concerned. I look at my hands, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to say this without hurting him. Again. 

It’s been eating away at me since I got home yesterday, but I pushed it to the back of my mind thinking it was nothing. But now that I’m sat here with him, I’m not so sure that it is. “You can tell me, whatever it is. If you want to, of course.” He says, and the kindness in his voice makes a lump form in my throat.

“It’s just…” I begin, choosing my words carefully. I won’t let myself screw this up again, undo everything we have accomplished. “Yesterday, everything was so…overwhelming. My emotions were at an all-time high. I’d never been so scared in my life, because I thought I was going to lose you. And in a way, that made everything easier. My fear fuelled my words and my actions. Nothing else mattered, I didn’t matter, only you mattered. My love for you hasn’t changed in the slightest since then, don’t you worry about that. It grows more and more every day.” I lift my eyes to meet his own, trying to make the adoration I feel for him clear in my expression. “But the fear and the overwhelming dread is fading and now I’m thinking more rationally.” He nods like he’s beginning to understand what I’m trying to say. “Talking with you over text and on social media is one thing, but being with you in person is another thing entirely.” He doesn’t look hurt, just curious. He doesn’t reply, waiting for me to finish. “You know that accepting myself is a journey, and I really am trying my best. But it’s still really hard, you know? I’ve been disgusted with myself for such a long time and I can’t just get over that overnight.” He nods in understanding.

“It’s okay, Buck. We’ll take it as slow as you need, we have all the time in the world. I waited six years for you and I’ll wait another fifty if that’s what it takes. I love you and that’s never going to change, no matter what.” The lump in my throat only grows. Steve Rogers really does deserve the world, but the world doesn’t deserve him.

“Thank you, Steve. You have no idea how much that means to me. It’s nothing to do with you, I promise. This is all me. In fact, if it’s any consolation you make this all a hell of a lot easier.” He raises an eyebrow at me teasingly. “Oh, is that right?” He asks.

“If I hadn’t of met you I don’t know if I could have ever come out. How can I ever think there’s something wrong with me when part of me is made up of you.” I don’t quite know where that choice of words came from, or what they mean exactly, they just felt _right,_ and I wouldn’t change them for the world. The shy blush on Steve’s face says it all. He knows _exactly_ what I mean, because he feels it too. “Honestly Bucky, we could sit at opposite ends of the room in silence for three hours and it would still be in my top five life experiences.” I laugh in happiness and relief. I’d been so terrified of how he would react, and to hear him understand and even joke about it, it brings me a freedom I can’t put into words. 

“That won’t be necessary” I reply, moving closer to him and pressing myself into his side. He lifts up the blanket to encase us both, wrapping his arm around my waist as I rest my head on his shoulder. I could stay like this forever, warm and safe with the only person who can make me feel that way just by being alive. He presses a light kiss to my forehead, running his hand that’s wrapped around me up and down my arm, and bringing the other around to rest his hand upon my own. I close my eyes, breathing him in, losing myself in the moment. We stay like that for a moment in comfortable silence. Shivers run down my spine has he traces his hand up and down my arm. It’s an innocent gesture, one of comfort and nothing more, but of course my mind has to ruin it. I pull away from him and reach for the remote in an effort to distract myself. “You want to watch a movie or something?” I ask and he just hums in reply, placing a light kiss to my shoulder and then one to my neck. _Not helping, Steve._

“How about bee movie?” I untangle myself from him and walk a little too quickly to the DVD case. He looks at me from the couch, a dreamy expression on his face. “Bee movie? Really?” He asks, amused.

“It’s a classic.” I say, turning on the TV and inserting the disk. He raises his eyebrows at me but says nothing. My breathing has steadied only slightly, but I’m still reluctant to press myself back up against him. I sit close enough for our legs to just be touching and reach out to grab his hand. He looks slightly disappointed but smiles softly regardless, squeezing my hand gently. I try to focus on the movie but his leg is so warm, the skin of his hand on my own so soft. Part of me is screaming out for him, to lie back up against him and forget about the world for a while, damn the consequences. But a part of me knows what might happen if I do, and I’m not sure how I’m feeling about that.

I try to hide my internal conflict, not wanting to worry him. But of course he’s Steve, and of course he notices. He turns his face away from the screen, looking at me curiously. I’m pretty sure he’s not actually watching the movie, either. “You’re so tense, Buck. Relax, it’s only me. I can go sit somewhere else if you like.” He says and I surprise myself at how quickly I reply. “No, no. This is…this is fine.” I bite my lip. _This is not fine_ , I want to say, _I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you but I can’t have you. I won’t let myself have you. You deserve more than this._

His gaze lingers on my face for a second before he smiles cheekily. “I have an idea. You tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?” I nod, unsure of what he’s about to do. He looks down at our hands briefly, and I follow his gaze. While I’m distracted he reaches his arms out to my sides, dragging them up and down before erupting in a chorus of giggles. “Steve!” I yell incredulous, but when he finds my sweet spot, right underneath my armpit, I can’t help but laugh along with him. 

He tickles me senseless and the smile on his face makes me forget all that was just going on in my mind. He pushes me back onto the couch and leans over me, his hands never leaving my sides. He doesn’t stop until I reach up to grab his neck, pulling his lips down towards mine. He gasps in surprise as my tongue pushes at his lips, and he brings a hand up to my face as he props himself up with the other. Our lips move in perfect synchrony, our breathing one and the same. For a moment I forget everything, the conflict and the whispers in my mind of _this is wrong, you are wrong._ Steve’s here. He’s breathing and moving and living, how could anything _possibly_ be wrong with that? I smile into the kiss, politely telling the voices in my head to fuck off, before pulling him impossibly closer.

When I do he pulls his lips from mine and looks at me for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just looks. “What?” I ask, my gaze switching between his eyes and his lips. God, he’s so beautiful. Everything about him, his flushed cheekbones, lips red from the kiss, hair falling around his face as he gazes down at me like I hung up the fucking stars. And his eyes. God, his eyes. Never before had it struck me how impossibly blue they are, with tiny specs of green as if they hold within them the very Earth we live on. But no, they don’t, they hold the whole universe. They hold _my_ universe. 

Prominent yet soft are his cheekbones, and I can’t help but run my thumb across his cheek gently, moving to the soft skin of his rosy cheeks which blush even harder when he sees me taking him in. I move down to his jawline, sharp but not overly so, crafted perfectly for my lips. “Nothing.” He replies, his voice soft and hazy as his gaze continues to trail wearily across my face before finally resting on my eyes. “You know…” he begins, “when I joked about coming round to stare at you for two hours, I wasn’t _entirely_ kidding.” He smirks and I chuckle, letting my head fall back against the couch. “Don’t tempt me, Stevie.” He frowns, crossing his arms over my chest and leaning his head on them, gazing up at me. His attempt to look irritated fails miserably and he just ends up looking far too adorable. “You’re still sticking with Stevie, then?” He asks, and I stroke a stray hair from his face.  
“Hey, honeybug is still on the table if you would prefer.” He groans and buries his head in his arms, still on my chest. I laugh softly and bring my hands up to entangle in his hair, massaging his scalp lightly. “I hate you” he mumbles into my chest. His voice is lazy and content. I get the feeling neither of us are up to saying much of anything at the moment, just content to lie in each other’s arms and breathe. 

He shifts slightly and his thigh drags across my crotch. I gasp lightly, a spark of electricity spreading throughout my entire body. In the past few minutes I’ve been so caught up in Steve, in how Steve is feeing, that I neglected to notice how painfully hard I had gotten. Apparently so did Steve, but he sure as hell knows now. 

He jolts back, getting off of me and sitting at the other end of the couch. “Sorry, I…sorry.” He looks down at his hands, refusing to meet my eyes. His cheeks are flushed red. Seriously? _He’s_ embarrassed? I’m glad he’s not looking at my face right now, I’m suddenly incredibly conscious of myself and my body, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never been so turned on in my _life_. “It’s…its fine. It’s not your fault. I mean, it is, but you didn’t…you didn’t mean-“ I trail off, mortified. _Smooth, Bucky._  
I don't even recall this happening. It's like my body is so hypersensitive to everything about him that it acts even when my mind isn't there. When my brain doesn't even realise there's a problem.

“I can… I can leave, if you need to, erm…“ he looks around the room awkwardly, ringing his hands like he’s unsure of what to do with them.  
“No, I don’t want you to leave.” I say, my voice so full of need that he looks up, meeting my gaze at last. He swallows nervously and doesn’t reply, like he either can’t find his voice or has no idea what to say. _This is wrong, you are wrong. What the hell are you doing?_

I sit up at last, resting my elbows on my thighs and dropping my head into my hands. I take a few breaths to regain my composure. “Shit, I’m so sorry Steve. This is so embarrassing. Sorry I ruined the moment.” 

He swallows, looking again at his hands. “Its…its fine. You can’t help it.” I rub my eyes with my hands. My thoughts are all over the place. I want him, more badly than I’ve ever wanted anything, but am I ready for that? I wanted to take it slow but now…I don’t know. I need him _but it’s wrong._ But it’s not wrong, it’s so, so right.  
“Tell me what’s going through your head.” He says and I huff out a pathetic laugh.  
“I don’t know what’s going on, that’s the problem. It’s all so confusing.” I say into my hands.  
“Tell me why it’s confusing.” He says oh so softly, and I look up from my hands at his face. The embarrassment is gone now, and has been replaced with concern. How he is managing to remain calm when the guy he’s been in love with for six years is sat _right in front of him_ , with a fucking _boner_ , I have no idea.  
“Because I _want_ you, Steve. I want you so fucking much and I shouldn’t. It shouldn’t still be this way, I shouldn’t still hate myself for being like this. So why do I?”

He scoots closer to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I relax into it, letting the feel of his body against mine drown out the war going on in my head. “Because you’re human. Humans are supposed to doubt themselves, it’s just nature. It’s what makes us strive to be better, to evolve. There’s nothing wrong with you, Bucky. Just relax, okay? Just relax.” His voice is so soft and soothing as he rubs my back, and it calms me. I let my eyes flutter shut, losing myself in the little piece of Heaven that I share with Steve, and Steve alone. 

The feeling of his hand on my back and his voice in my ear doesn’t help the main problem here, though. “This isn’t helping, Steve.” I say and for a second his hand stops moving. I’m so painfully hard and riled up now, and there’s no way that’s going to go away anytime soon. “So…you won’t do anything about it while I’m here, but you want me to stay. You also don’t want _me_ to do anything about it, because a part of you still thinks it’s not right, because I’m a guy. But you _do_ want me to do something about it, because it’s _me_.” I lift my head from his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. It was so difficult for me to put my thoughts into words, but he just hit the nail on the head. “How did you…” I begin, but he interrupts me.

“Because I know you.” And that’s all that needs to be said. He continues rubbing my back for a moment, his eyes never straying from my face. I reach out to press my lips gently against his own, bringing my hand up to rest against his neck. He pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against my own and looking up at me through his eyelashes. The sight almost sends me over the edge, bringing a warmth to my stomach like I’ve never felt before, one that travels through my entire body. 

He looks nervous and still slightly embarrassed. “I, erm… I have an idea.” He says and I swallow, my lips brushing against his own briefly. He scoots back slightly, leaning against the back of the couch. He picks up the blanket that had been haphazardly cast on the floor at some point, and drapes it over his shoulders. “Come here.” He says, lifting the blanket up to make room for me. I sit next to him apprehensively and he drapes it over me. The blanket is so big that it covers both of our bodies entirely. He lifts his hand up and presses gently on the side of my face, pulling my head down to rest on his shoulder. “Close your eyes.” He says and I do. I don’t know what his idea is exactly, but just being near him is making my heart beat ten to the dozen.

“I’m going to erm…try something. If you want me to stop, just say the word. If you’re uncomfortable at all, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” I nod and he presses his lips lightly to my temple. Something about the situation is just so _intimate,_ and I think my groin knows that too. I’m so hot and riled up that I almost lose it when Steve begins trailing his hand down my chest and across my stomach, painfully slow, sending little shocks through my entire body as he does. I audibly whimper when he reaches the hem of my shirt, and I curse myself. I couldn’t have helped it, but Steve pauses his movements. “Is this okay?” He whispers into my ear. His voice is husky but I can’t see his expression, my eyes still closed. I nod and swallow, turning my head to bury it into the crook of his neck. I’m already so close and he hasn’t even touched me yet. 

“Just forget I’m even here, okay? Stop thinking. This isn’t about me, this is about you. Just relax, lose yourself in the sensation.” He moves his hand lower, lower, lower…and when he finally runs his hand lightly over my crotch all of the tension leaves my body, the pleasure and _relief_ washing over me immediately. “Steve…” I breathe into his neck as he massages the area through my jeans. The pleasure is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Tremors are already pulsing through my body, my mouth dropping open and my breath quickening. “Shh… remember what I said. I’m not even here. Forget about everything but the sensation. That’s it...” He’s moving painfully slow but firm, and I’m getting closer with every stroke. I’m sure he can feel the pulsing and the ever growing wetness through my jeans by now, and that thought alone almost makes me come undone. “Keep…talking…” I say against his neck through my shallow breaths. He presses down harder, apparently taking my request as further reassurance that this is okay. _God,_ this is more than okay. This is _Heaven._

“Just relax, Buck. Stop thinking for a while, let yourself feel good. I’m not here. Lose yourself, that’s it…” I’m starting to think his voice is riling me up more than his hand. There’s something so soothing and _intimate_ about it, about this entire situation, and I haven’t been this aroused in my _life._ It’s so uncomfortable, my dick pressing hard up against my trousers, but at the same time it’s the most amazing sensation I’ve ever felt. I’ve had sex with girls, God, have I had some good sex. And I’ve masturbated of course. But nothing, nothing even comes _close_ to this. He presses his thumb down and I can feel the familiar warmth pooling in my stomach, I’m so close, hot and pulsing and I don’t know how much longer I can hold it off. I’ve been right on the edge since before he even started. I don’t want this feeling to end. “Steve…Steve…” I breathe out, my eyes scrunching shut tighter as he presses down harder. He drags his hand up and down, achingly slow, and I can feel my dick twitch against his hand as I come, my every muscle quivering, half screaming and half sobbing into his neck with the intensity of it. He continues to palm me through my orgasm, his other hand running up and down my arm as I come down from the high, relaxing completely into his side.  
I stay like that for a moment, catching my breath. So… _that just happened._

When I finally work up the courage to lift my head off of Steve’s shoulder and look at his face, I almost get hard again just at his expression. His pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed and bite marks on his lips. It’s so full of _want,_ but also worry. “Was that… did I… did I go too far?” I almost laugh out loud as his words. He just gave me the best orgasm of my life and he’s worried he went _too far_. “God, Steve. No you didn’t go too far. Jesus _Christ_. That was –“I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. I’ve never felt anything like that in my entire life. “Holy shit… what was that…how did you…” I’m speechless. He shrugs, looking down at his hands shyly.  
“I know you wanted to take it slow but you…I thought that maybe…closing your eyes…” He’s blushing like crazy now and it drives me _insane._

I lean forward, pressing my lips to his softly. I’m still coming down from my high so the kiss is messy and imperfect. He lifts both of his hands up to place them on either side of my face, and I can tell with the fervency of his kiss how aroused he is. He doesn’t do anything about it though, does nothing to suggest that he wants more. He just kisses me with everything he has and caresses my cheeks in the softest embrace. He’s unbelievable. He just did _that_ and he’s still worried he’s going to go too far somehow. I drag my hand slowly down his side and he flinches, standing abruptly.  
“Can I use your bathroom?” He asks and I smirk up at him.  
“That depends, do you really have to use the bathroom? Or would you rather some help with…” I gesture at the prominent bulge in his crotch area. I don’t know whether to feel embarrassed, or excited, or scared. I don’t know what to feel anymore, I just know I need to feel _him._  
“I actually have to use the bathroom” he replies, his voice one octave too high, and scuttles off down the hall like a lost puppy. I hear the door slam and I fall back against the couch, rubbing my eyes with my hands. I look down at my pants. I should probably change them, I think absently. 

I stand up and walk down the hall to my bedroom, but I pass the bathroom on my way there and I consider knocking, just to make sure he’s okay. I’d be very surprised if he actually had to use the bathroom. I wonder briefly if I made a mistake. When he did what he did I was thinking about myself, not him. I needed the release, but now he’s probably in there thinking he’s screwed everything up. I don’t think before knocking on the door. “Steve, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He opens the door almost immediately. He looks confused. “ _You’re_ sorry? What for?”  
“I shouldn’t have let you… I mean, I don’t regret it. Not in the slightest. It was fucking incredible, I just…” I trail off, unsure of how to word this. “I told you I wanted to take it slow and I know that’s not exactly _taking to slow._ But the way you did it…God, it was like nothing else even existed in my head. There was just you. I’m not sorry it happened in the slightest, but I know how you must be feeling right now…like you messed up…” He doesn’t reply but the expression on his face says I hit the nail on the head. “You didn’t mess up, Steve. I messed up because I wasn’t thinking of _you_ , of whether or not you were ready for that.” He snaps his head up, looking me dead in the eye. 

“Are you kidding?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest in disbelief. “I quite literally confessed that I would rip my liver out of my body for you this morning, but you think I’m not ready to give you a _handjob?_ ” I huff out a laugh in relief and amusement. He’s always seemed quite wary and unsure of himself, always watching his words and avoiding awkward topics. And to hear him speak with such an assertive tone about something so…sensual. Let’s just say it’s a side of Steve I’d most definitely like to see more often. He’s clearly very passionate about declaring his enthusiasm in the handjob department. “Then why did you run away?” I ask after my laughing ceases. He looks at me like _why do you fucking think?_

I smile and pull him closer, pressing my body flush up against his. He lets out an inaudible gasp at the sudden contact. He glances at my lips while licking his own, his pupils blown wide. “I wasn’t sure if…if you wanted…” but I don’t let him finish, crashing my lips into his own in a desperate kiss. It’s hot and messy and his hands _still_ won’t stray from my face. I press him up against the sink and he whimpers into my mouth before pushing me away lightly, just far enough for him to speak.

“Bucky…are you… is this…if you don’t stop I don’t know that I…that I can…” he’s not making any sense, his words coming out between his ragged breathes. I put my hands on either side of his face, looking deep into his eyes and putting as much sincerity into my words as I can. “I want you, Steve. I want all of you, in every way possible. If you want…” 

This time he does push me away, only gently, but far enough that the air between us is cold and lonely. I ache for his touch, for his warmth, for _him_. I ache for it more than I’ve ever ached for anything in my life.

“Bucky…” he breathes, gripping the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles are white. His expression is pained and desperate, and I only ache for him more. To love him like he deserves to be loved, to hold him like he deserves to be held. He takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts before speaking. “I’ve waited six years for you. Six years of imagining how your hands would feel on my skin, how your lips would feel against mine. If this is really what you want then you know I’m ready. But we’ve been together barely a day, are you sure this is what you want?” He says. I take a step closer to him but not too close, just far enough that I can still reach my hand up to brush a stray hair behind his ear. 

Looking at him then, bruised lips and flushed cheeks, and hearing the care and tenderness in his voice when he’s struggling to even _think_ straight right now, I know there is nothing in the world I want more. “Listen, Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully ready to accept myself for who I am. When I’m alone, anyway. When I’m with you none of that matters. It doesn’t matter who I was, who I am now or who I want to be. None of it fucking _matters._ All that matters is that you love me, and I love you back. And who the hell am I to fight that? When I said I wanted to take it slow I’ll admit I didn’t anticipate this would happen _today,_ but after what happened earlier…I’ve never felt anything like that before. For a second I truly felt like I belonged, because how could something so wrong feel so _right._ ” I swallow tightly, taking another step towards him, our noses brushing lightly as I do. He still look apprehensive, though. Like he’s certain I’m just kidding or this is actually a dream. I press a chaste kiss to his cheek, his nose, his jaw and finally his lips. “And yes, we’ve been together a day, but I’ve waited a lifetime for you.” And that seems to do it, wash away the last tendrils of doubt and crumble the last of his walls.

He smashes his lips into mine urgently, flipping us so that I’m the one pressed up against the sink. The action sends a fire through my body and straight down to my groin, eliciting a groan from deep in my throat. I can’t believe how quickly I’m getting hard again. “Promise…you’ll…tell me… if you need to…stop…” he says in between kisses, his hands running frantically through my hair and down to my neck. “I won’t.” I breathe out against his lips, and he pulls away immediately, resting his forehead against my own, his eyes fluttering shut. “Just promise me.” He says, and it brings a lump to my throat. He’s quite literally coming apart in front of me, and he still only cares that I’m okay.  
“I promise.” I say, and I mean it. 

When he kisses me again it’s soft and tender, our lips barely touching. Not at all like the last kiss, which was desperate and sloppy. This one is full of love and affection, and it says _I love you with everything I have and everything I hope to be._

He sighs contentedly against my lips, his hands moving from my neck and down my arms, where he entangles them with my own. He brings both of my hands up to his mouth, kissing each of my fingers lightly before moving onto the next. It’s such a loving, innocent gesture, and I never want this moment to end. I could look at him forever, doing nothing but breathing and living. Was I living before I found him? I was alive, yes, I had a heartbeat. But only now do I have a reason and a rhythm for that heartbeat.

When he drops my hands I move them to his waist, feeling his wiry frame under the material of his shirt. “Perhaps let’s not do this in the bathroom sink.” I say. He smiles shyly and nods, that characteristic blush spreading across his cheekbones. I’ll never not be in awe of it. It spreads all the way down his jaw and onto his neck, and it’s just one of the countless imperfections I love about Steve Rogers.

I grip his hand in my own and lead him to my bedroom. When I open the door his eyes go wide. “Wow.” He says before turning around to look at me in amusement. Okay, now it’s _my_ turn to blush. “Sorry. I could have hardly anticipated this would happen today, I didn’t have time to prepare.” I say, my voice full of shame.  
“And by prepare you mean take down your Ragnarok posters, your Ragnarok curtains, hide your Ragnarok funko pops, and change your Ragnarok duvet cover?” I groan in frustration, burying my head in my hands. I hear him move towards me and he removes my hands from my face, smirking at me cheekily. “If it makes you feel any better, I have a poster of Bruce above my bed.”  
“You do not. You’re just saying that.” I reply.  
“No, really I do. Maybe I’ll show you sometime…” Just the suggestiveness of his tone makes my dick twitch in my pants, and I need them off. _Now._

As if reading my thoughts he presses a gentle kiss to my lips, pushing me backwards towards the bed. I sit back against the headboard as he straddles me, his eyes never leaving my own. I bite my lip, my eyes trailing over his face and down to his chest. “I like this side of you, Steve. I like it a lot.” He smirks up at me through his lashes and my heart beats impossibly faster. “You don’t lie in bed every night for six years imagining this exact situation and not build up some practise.” He says, his hands moving agonisingly slow down my chest, my abdomen, and to the hem of my shirt. He looks up at me for permission, and I nod a bit too enthusiastically. He pulls it up over my head and his mouth drops open as he takes me in. I’ve never seen someone so full of lust, so full of desire, and the thought that I could make someone look like _that_ riles me up more than it probably should. 

In a way, I’m really fucking glad about what happened on the couch between us earlier. At least now I have a _chance_ of lasting a respectable amount of time. But when he reaches out to touch my chest, moving his hands slowly over my core, I’m suddenly not so sure. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Just looks at me in pure _need,_ his hands gliding effortlessly across my chest, feeling the smooth skin under his fingertips, the bumps and curves and ridges.

He moves them slowly, painfully, down my sides, and my eyes flutter shut at the sensation. I rest my head back against the headboard, letting his hands explore wherever they want to. They move to my upper abdomen, lingering for a moment before travelling lower, lower…and when he reaches the waistband of my jeans he moves them back up to my neck, kissing me ever so softly. “We’ll take this slow, okay? There’s no need to rush.” I nod, whimpering as his lips brush lightly against my neck, lingering there for a second before placing a kiss there. He does this again, moving slowly up my neck and to the side of my jaw. I drop my head to the side, giving him greater access and he hums in appreciation. He brings one hand up to cup the side of my face, the other trailing down my arm to intertwine our fingers. His crotch starts to move against mine subtly, just the faintest of movements, as his main focus seems to be my neck. It almost sends me to the stars, regardless. “Steve…” I mutter, growing impatient. 

He pulls away long enough to remove his own shirt before he’s right back at my neck again. My eyes flutter shut as I move my hands over his wiry frame, the soft skin and barely-there-muscle setting my every nerve ablaze. We’re not even fully undressed yet and it’s already so incredibly intimate, more intimate than anything I had experienced before. I’ve had sex with girls before, of course, but I never had feelings for any of them. It was just casual sex, a quick relief, but this…this is something entirely different. Of course I’m worried because this is my first time with a guy, but I’m also not worried, because it’s my first time with _Steve_. All of the sex I’ve had has been rough and careless, but _this_ …the way he’s being so gentle with me, every touch filled to the brim with care and meaning, like I’m the most precious thing in the world…I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve never felt so treasured, so important to anyone than I do to Steve right now. I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him up closer to me until his chest is flush against my own. Our crotches brush against each other as I do and he moans into my mouth, his lips brushing against mine but not kissing, and for a second we both still, breathing each other’s air.

“I love you so much, Bucky. I love you so fucking much.” He whispers, and his voice is pained, like he knows he will never truly be able to put it into words. And I know exactly how he feels. A love like this is beyond the capabilities of mere speech, it’s something that runs deep into the very heart of the soul, something that can only ever be felt, and never heard. “I know…I _know._ ” I breathe against his lips, hoping it conveys my thoughts, helps him to feel everything I cannot put into words. He swallows, his gaze interlocking with my own, and I get the feeling he knows _exactly_ what I’m trying to communicate. “So, erm…” I stutter out, my voice trembling in anticipation. “How do you want to do this?”

He surprises me by chuckling lightly against my lips, the vibration travelling all the way down to my groin. “However the hell you want, Bucky. Do whatever you want. Whatever makes you feel good. Whatever makes you the most comfortable.” I drag my tongue across his bottom lip, eliciting a whimper from deep in his throat. “You already made me feel amazing, Steve. This is about you, what do _you_ want?” He laughs again, but this time it’s more of a humorous laugh and less of a breathy chuckle. He looks at me through his lashes, his expression incredulous. “Bucky, you could literally sit there holding my hand and I’d yeet myself into the void eight times in the space of a minute.”  
“We’re about to have sex and you’re really gonna start talking about _yeeting?”_  
“What can I say, yeeting is a 24/7 commitment.”  
“Even when I’m about to be _inside you?”_  
“So you admit you want to be on top?”  
“I didn’t say that.”  
“Be on top if you want, or not, I’m yeeting to the void either way.”  
“Will you stop saying yeet?”  
“I don’t know… it’s gonna take something pretty spectacular to make me stop saying ye-“ I lift him up from my lap, flipping us so he’s laying back against the headboard and I’m kneeling in front of him. I kiss him hard and fast and messy, and he chases my lips as I pull away. 

“Are you going to stop saying yeet now?” I tease against his lips, bringing my thumb up to brush against his lower lip. He swallows and nods frantically, his pulse thrumming wildly under my fingertips, his pupils wider than I’ve ever seen them. I part his legs and sit between them, dragging my hands slowly up and down his thighs, feeling the soft muscle through the material of his pants.  
I move my hand to his waistband, pulling his zipper down slowly, letting my fingers brush across his crotch lightly as I do. His eyelids flutter at the sensation, his eyes threatening to close, but he doesn’t let himself look away from me for even a second.

I undo the button of his jeans, taking my time with it. He’s breathing so hard now that I’m genuinely worried I’m going to give him an asthma attack, but when he brings his hands down to entangle in my hair, massaging the skin there lightly, I know he’s okay. “Bucky…” he whimpers as I remove his jeans slowly, tossing them onto the floor and licking my lips at the sight in front of me. 

He’s bigger than I expected, red and swollen and dripping with pre-come. Just the sight of it alone, and the sight of Steve coming apart underneath me like this, his inhibitions melting under my touch…it makes me ache for any kind of release, just _something_ to ease the tension in my groin that grows more and more uncomfortable every second. “I want to try something…” I say, licking my lips at the thought of what I’m about to do. Steve doesn’t say anything in reply, and at the moment I’m wondering if he actually _can_ speak. 

I move my lips back up to his neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin there. He moves his hands from the small of my back up to entangle in my hair, tugging on it gently as I press my groin teasingly against his own. Not hard, but enough to send a shockwave of pleasure through my veins, one so intense that it makes all my muscles tense and my toes curl. Steve’s body trembles with mine, clutching at me even more desperately, and he elicits a groan so deep and desperate that I worry he’s not going to make it to the actual sex if I keep this up. Perhaps he thinks so too, as he lifts my head from his neck and slides the softness of his mouth over my own, so gently it almost brings me to tears, wrapping his arms around me so tightly that I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. 

My hair tickles his cheekbones as he embraces me, and he tucks the loose strands behind my ear tenderly. When he deepens the kiss my vision blurs for a moment, whether that’s because of Steve or a simple lack of oxygen I couldn’t say, and it’s so overwhelming that I close my eyes, focusing instead on the feel of his lips and his skin against my own. My senses are overwhelmed, my head swimming and my every nerve on fire. 

By now I’m pretty sure the fuzziness in my head is because of a lack of oxygen, but I can’t pull away. I don’t want to pull away, not ever. I want to lose myself in this very moment here, with him, forever. With every tender touch of his fingers I can feel all the broken pieces of myself slotting back into place, every tear and doubt disappearing from existence, the scars replaced by imprints of his lips. Not only am I so incredibly conscious of Steve’s body underneath me, but also of my own body, in a way I have never experienced before. I’m conscious of my core, pressed so impossibly close against his own, of my hands, one supporting me upright and one intertwined with his own, and of my groin, hovered above Steve’s but not touching. “Steve…” I whimper against his skin, desperate to be closer to him, as close as physically possible.

Before I get too carried away I break the kiss, leaving a trail of kisses down his torso as I move down his body, desperate to feel him, _every_ part of him, against my lips. I take the whimper and the subtle rut of his hips off of the mattress as permission to go ahead. I look down at him, raw and dripping and I’m suddenly nervous. I’ve done this with girls and they seemed to enjoy it. But this isn’t just _some girl_ , this is Steve. For a moment I just look at him, all of him, so incredibly aroused and exposed, and I don’t think he’s ever been more beautiful.

I drag my nose lightly along his thigh, leaving a trail of chaste kisses. I place my hands on his knees, widening his legs just slightly as I bring my head down, dragging my tongue from the base of his dick upwards, brushing my lips softly across the head before dragging my tongue back down. The taste is overwhelming, better than I ever thought it could be. The feel of him against my lips, it’s like being suddenly drunk. The world around me doesn’t exist anymore and I lose myself in the feel and taste of him.

Steve’s strangled cries of pure ecstasy tell me I must be doing something right, and in my sudden boost of confidence I wrap my lips fully around the head, moving down slowly and taking all of him in. When I do his entire body jolts and he brings his legs up to wrap around my shoulders, his fingers buried so deep in my hair but not uncomfortably so, like even in this blissful state he’s still concerned about hurting me. The thought makes me go deeper, determined to make him feel as good as humanly possible, and when he arches his back off the bed, his entire body tensing in utter _bliss,_ I know I’ve succeeded. The noises coming from him make me rub my crotch slowly against the mattress, desperate for any kind of friction, any kind of relief.

I’m surprised, to say the least, when Steve tugs lightly on my hair, whispering through ragged breathes. “B-Bucky…s-stop…”  
I pull off of him immediately and look up in concern, my own arousal forgotten for the moment. “I’m sorry, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”  
He huffs an exhausted laugh, his head falling back against the mattress.  
“You most definitely did not-”  
“Then what’s wrong?” I ask, my voice full of concern. He sits up, reaching out to pull me towards him, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing our lips together as we both fall back against the bed, our bodies slick and sweaty against one another. “You’re too far away…stay up here. Stay close to me…” He moans against my lips, and I’m suddenly hyper aware of the fact I still have my pants on. I remove myself from his grip long enough to remove them and drop them to the floor, before throwing myself back up against him, clutching at his face desperately, kissing him harder than I ever have before. I struggle to contain my breathing, my entire body quivering. I don’t know where this sudden urgency has come from. It’s not arousal as such. I mean, of course I’m _incredibly_ aroused, but I think it’s more to do with the need to be close to him, to feel his skin glide effortlessly across my own, to lose myself in him. To forget about the ugliness of the world around me, the ugliness of the world _within_ me, and become one with the only man who can make me feel like myself.

He pulls away briefly, pushing me back against the headboard and straddling me again. Right back where we started. “Shh…relax. Let me take care of you.” He whispers softly against my cheek, and the sincerity of his statement brings a lump to my throat and a new rhythm to my heartbeat. For the first time the thought crosses my mind that maybe, just maybe, I can learn to love myself. Because when someone like Steve loves me like he does, with an intensity that goes beyond the realms of human consciousness and deep, deep into the very heart of the soul…there must be something pure in me that he sees. The world is ugly but Steve Rogers is beautiful, and when the only essence of beauty left on this Earth sees a goodness in you, it’s hard not to see it too.

He trails his lips across my cheek to meet my own, his tongue nudging at them insistently. I open up, letting his tongue explore the heat and wetness of my mouth as he pleases. My teeth scrape across his lip and he moans, rutting gently down against my crotch. The friction makes my skin shiver and my muscles tense. I bring my arms down to his ass, marvelling in the soft flesh briefly before sliding my hands up his sides and the edges of his face. I brush my finger lightly across our conjoined lips and he breaks off briefly, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. I have no idea how he knew he needed to do that, and I try not to think about it too much, because if I do I’m pretty sure I’ll come undone and untouched, right there and then. He moves his tongue to a second finger, his eyes locked on mine, and the action is so intimate and _erotic_ that I almost lose it right there, just watching him.  
I remove my fingers from his mouth and he watches me as I move them underneath him, pressing gently at his entrance. He bites his lip in nervous anticipation and I press a light kiss to his forehead. “Are you ready?” I ask and he nods, lifting his head to look me in the eye.  
“Yes, just…kiss me.” I press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, tender and comforting. _It’s okay_ , it says, _I’m here and I’m not going to hurt you._

I press my finger upwards slowly, pushing against the slight resistance. He sighs into my mouth as I press deeper. “Is that okay?” I ask in concern and he moans in response, pushing down onto my finger. “God, yes… _Bucky_. Don’t stop, don’t stop…” I push further and his moan deepens, his thighs tensing around my hips. He’s tight and wet and he feels _so fucking good._ I can feels the beads of pre-come dripping from my own dick now, down my stomach and onto our thighs. I insert another finger and he lets out a strangled cry of relief, like he’s been relieved from a great agony. I press my fingers in and out, opening him up, feeling him clench and throb around me. 

“Okay, okay. That’s it. I’m ready.” He exhales after a moment, whining in discontent as I remove my fingers. I look at him for a moment, his eyes wide and pleading, his hair falling in loose strands around his face, and wonder how the hell we got to this point after everything that has happened. The universe really does work in mysterious, magical ways.

“Do you erm…do you have…” he asks, startling me from my thoughts. My eyes widen in realisation. I was so caught up in the heat of the moment I completely forgot about it. I reach into the bedside drawer and pull out a condom. He watches my hands as I open it, mouth hanging open slightly, enraptured by my movements. “Bucky…” he says suddenly as the packet opens, anxiety clear in his voice. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” I freeze, glancing up at his face. He looks ashamed, his mouth tilted downwards slightly and I want to kiss away his frown, his inhibitions. “This is your first time with a guy?” I ask.  
He chews his bottom lip timidly, his eyes locked on my chest as he swallows.  
“This is your first time _ever?_ ” His silence is answer enough. I lean forward, pressing my lips against his own.  
“I only ever wanted you.” He mumbles as we pull away. I drag my thumb across his lip, a gesture that seems to soothe him ever so slightly. “It’s okay. I don’t know what I’m doing either. Guess we will just have to figure it out together, won’t we?” I say, and the statement seems to comfort him somewhat.

I finish opening the condom and move to put it on, but Steve stops me, placing his hand over my own. “Can I…?” I nod, handing it to him, watching his face as he puts it on me. His hands are trembling but he’s steady as his skin brushes over mine. I can’t take it anymore, I pull him up against me and I can feel the beat of his heart against my own, our breaths mingling as we breathe against each other lips. I can tell he’s nervous and I run my hands up and down his sides in a comforting gesture, as he lifts himself up and lowers himself down onto me slowly. The second our skin touches a shudder pulses through my body. The relief is incomprehensible, and my brain short circuits at the feel of Steve, so wet and open, against the one place I need it most. “Steve…Oh, God.” His warmth envelops me and I see stars. My eyes shut and my head falls back against the headboard. I can tell Steve is still looking at me though. He never stops looking at me. 

He whimpers helplessly, his hands reaching out to clutch my shoulders. I’m struggling to string together even one comprehensible thought, but the action brings me back to my senses slightly. “Am I…am I hurting you?” I exhale, and he moans softly in response. “God, _no."_

I reach out to wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder because suddenly being close to him, holding him tightly, is more important than moving. He presses his face into the crook of my neck, kissing me softly, pulling me as close as he possibly can. We’re as close as two humans can possibly be, and it’s _still_ not enough. It will never be enough. I run my hands down his back, losing myself in the feel of the angles and bumps and imperfections under my fingertips. Right now there is no one else in the world but us, Steve and Bucky, Bucky and Steve, dumbass teenagers in love.

After a few more seconds he begins to roll his hips delicately, his muscles straining under my touch. I clutch at him desperately as my breathing picks up. Nothing matters except for the feel of his wetness tensing and pulsing around me, his skin slick against my own, his hands roaming my back, grasping at me urgently, and his soft moans in my ear that get higher with every movement. It’s been only a few seconds, but from the rhythm of his breathing and the trembling of his thighs I can tell he’s close already. I can feel the pre-come dripping from him onto my stomach and the thought drives me crazy. My partner’s pleasure has always been something I’ve gotten off on. Making someone feel good, even if they meant very little to me, it gets me riled up like nothing else. And now it’s _Steve,_ the person who matters the _most,_ and he’s moving and moaning like _that_ …

I can feel myself getting close too, painfully close, the familiar warmth pooling in my stomach stronger and faster than it has before, and it’s _too much._ “Steve…Steve… I’m-“  
I shift our position slightly, aiming for that one spot I know will send us both over the edge. I know I’ve found it when Steve cries out against my shoulder, his every muscle tensing under my hands, his movements speeding urgently as the first whispers of his orgasm approach. “Bucky, oh God… _Bucky.”_  
I pull his head from my shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. “Look at me, Steve. Don’t stop…looking…at me.” I can barely get my words out, and I reach down with one of my hands to grip his own. After he meets my eyes it’s another two thrusts and he’s coming, his mouth falling open in bliss, screaming and sobbing and _tensing_ around me and in one more thrust my orgasm hits, sending waves of ecstasy through my every cell and he kisses me hard and fast through it, our sobs and our bodies indistinguishable from one another.

He doesn’t stop kissing me once it’s over, his mouth sliding lazily and soppily over my own. I chase his lips once he pulls away. _Don’t go, my Steve. Stay here with me forever. _He rests his head against the pillow and pulls the blanket tight around himself. He tugs on my hand and I crawl under with him, the world around me still just a haze. Steve is as clear as day, though. The only splash of colour on this bleak, grey Earth. I pull him close to me, wrapping my arms around him, and the gesture is a promise. A promise of what is to come. A promise of forever. _In this and every life, I choose you._ Neither of us have the energy left, so we just let the beats of our hearts do the talking.__


End file.
